


Monday Wednesday Friday

by stardawn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 01:37:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6932587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardawn/pseuds/stardawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small town farmboy who dreams of building spaceships. A city girl following in her politician mother’s footsteps. A burned-out fifth year senior just trying to graduate and move on with life. And seemingly nothing in common between them except their mutual imprisonment in a gen ed Physics 101 lecture class.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obi1sexybi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obi1sexybi/gifts).



> For obi1sexy-bi over on Tumblr! It’s been at least four years since I’ve written a fanfic and I was absolutely thrilled to jump into the skysolo gift exchange for the chance to write again! She had a lot of really cute modern AU ideas and I ended up merging two of them– a college AU, and Luke’s first kiss. Slice of life isn’t my usual genre but this was a lot of fun to write, I hope it turned out ok!! It’s also long as heck so it’s split into 3 chapters!

**Monday.**

 

It isn’t so much that Luke Skywalker thinks he’s above Physics 101. It’s the foundation of his field, after all, a necessary starting point for _any_ burgeoning aerospace engineer. And Luke is nothing if not determined to prove himself worthy of advancing further, of proving to himself and everyone else that he can handle this whole university thing, even if it still seems so daunting for a small town farmboy like him.

No, it’s more that he wonders why he has to be in _this_ section of the class in particular.

Sure, it’s a gen ed requirement for every major from neuroscience to creative writing, but Luke hadn’t expected it to be quite this _dull_. Or quite this rambunctious, with a constant murmur of conversation making the mumbling professor’s monotonous lectures even more difficult to follow. It’s hard not to get frustrated at how little his classmates care about the subject, when to Luke, this class is the gateway to his future. The first step in many to realizing his dreams of working out beyond the stratosphere, of building and piloting the spaceships he’d made models of since his childhood. But that’s how he comforts himself, too, breathing deep as his blue eyes drift up to the double doors of the lecture hall. It’s just another 8 am hoop to jump through. Just another day of trying not to fall asleep, and trying to hear the professor over the snores of the few dozen students who even bother showing up to a Monday morning lecture anymore.

There is one saving grace in the class and it’s his sister Leia, who he spots easily in the large hall as he enters for the tidy braids she’s done her hair in, just as she did every day. She’s one of the few who bothers to take notes in the class, who bothers to raise her hand and answer questions, and it’s strange and impressive to Luke because Leia is a captive gen ed student just like most of her classmates there. The political science degree she’s pursuing surely has little need for an introductory physics course, and yet Leia focuses on the lecture each and every day like it’s a vital part of her curriculum. Luke admires her for it. She’s a bright spark of inspiration and determination that he desperately needs in the monotony of the class.

Today, though, something’s different. Luke crosses through the row of empty seats to sit next to Leia, just as he did every day, but for once their private corner of the lecture hall isn’t so private. Someone in the row behind Leia has sprawled lazily across the seats, legs crossed and propped up against the back of the chair Luke normally uses. He can see the annoyance on Leia’s face before he even follows the offending legs to get a look at who’s dominating the space.

Brown jacket over a worn-out white shirt, arms crossed, brown hair a scruffy mess. Luke wishes he didn’t know the sight as well as he did, wishes that his stomach didn’t twist in the peculiar knot it did as he approaches. Wishes it was the first time he’d really looked at the other student, whose hazel eyes dart up to meet Luke’s.

Han Solo. His name had been called the first day of class, before the professor had given up on keeping attendance, and something about the lazy wave of his hand from where he sat slouched back like he owned the place had struck Luke as terribly…

_Alluring_ , his mind offers, but he pushes down the word with a swallow. Han wasn’t any different from the other slackers in the class, not even bothering to show up half the time, but for some reason he had today, and for some reason he’s staring down at Luke as the boy stands awkwardly where Han’s feet cover his chair. A smirk slowly grows on the other man’s face, and Luke’s apprehension grows with it. For all his languid posture, there’s something dangerous about Han, something terribly intimidating. Like he knew more than he let on, like he could pick a fight at a moment’s notice.

“You need somethin’, kid?” Han breaks the awkward silence finally, raising an eyebrow expectantly. Luke’s heart skips at his voice, but a boyish stubbornness rises up in him too. He _won’t_ be intimidated. His hand tightens around his notebook as he steadies his blue eyes against Han’s.

“Just my seat,” he responds, his voice far more level than he feels inside. Hazel eyes bore through him and he shifts uncomfortably under the man’s silent gaze, until finally-- and to Luke’s utter surprise-- it’s Han that looks away first, blinking out of the staring contest with a grin that’s almost sheepish.

There’s no apology, but he moves his feet without argument, sitting up straighter in his seat behind Luke. The boy exchanges a glance with Leia, and between them a silent agreement passes.

_What a weirdo._ When Leia turns sharply at the voice of the professor beginning the day’s lecture, however, Luke can’t help but amend the thought to himself. A weirdo, yeah, but…

But a good-looking one.

It’s only a few minutes into the lecture before the man leans in to nudge at Luke’s back.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low like he knows there’s a lecture going on but he wants to talk anyway. “Hey, what’s your name, kid?”

Luke really should tell him off, or ignore him, or do anything besides what he does, but some part of him deep inside flutters in nervous excitement at the question. And it _is_ a relatively harmless question.

“Luke,” he mumbles back, and after a pause he adds, “Skywalker.”

“Name’s Han. Han Solo.”

Luke nods at the introduction, trying to keep his eyes forward, but Han only leans in closer, and Luke can feel the heat of his body against the back of his chair. Leia is glancing sidelong at her brother with a gaze that’s asking _should I kick his ass_? But Luke shakes his head minutely, the twitch of a smile pulling at his lips. She’s so petite, so well-kept, that it hides the merciless and righteous fury underneath. He has no doubt that she would whirl around and give Han hell if Luke wished it.

But he doesn’t. He can’t, not the way his heart beats faster when Han speaks up again, his arms crossed lazily over the back of Luke’s seat as he rests there.

“You a physics major?” he asks, and the way his head cocks against him arm when Luke twists around to meet his gaze makes his shaggy hair fall in soft waves around his hazel eyes.

“Aerospace engineering.”

“What, like rocket science?” Han quirks an eyebrow in amusement, and a defensiveness wells up in Luke instinctively. Why the scorn? Luke is perfectly capable of… of rocket science, if that’s what Han thinks of it. His blue eyes narrow a little, his hand gripping a little too tight against the spiral of his notebook.

“It’s more complicated than that,” he tries to explain, but the cocky smirk that grows on Han’s face at the statement is disarming in just how damn irritated it makes him.

“Sure, kid. And I bet you’re a genius already, huh?” Han gestures loosely to the notebook in Luke’s lap, still closed. “That why you ain’t takin’ notes?”

God, he’s just so… _smarmy_. Luke almost doesn’t know how to respond, the sharp prickles of offense running up his arms at the man’s sudden attack, but he can see Leia tensing next to him and he snaps back to avoid a scene being made with the first retort that pops into his head.

“I take notes better when someone’s not talking over my shoulder,” he says, somewhat lamely. But his blue eyes are sharp, meeting Han’s gaze directly even though it lurches his stomach to do it. “What about you? You’re hardly ever _here_.”

He might as well have said nothing at all, for how nonchalantly Han meets the criticism, his tone as smooth as if he’s planned out the answer. Maybe he has. “That’s ‘cause I know all this stuff already.”

“So I guess you’re the genius, then.” Luke rolls his eyes and turns, intent on ignoring Han for the rest of the lecture, but the other man _still_ keeps on.

“Nah. Just took the class already.”

It’s so brazen and matter-of-fact that it catches Luke off guard, and he blinks in surprise and confusion before begrudgingly turning back.

“You already took it?”

“Yeah. Failed it twice,” Han replies, smiling like it’s a perfectly understandable thing. “Didn’t really care until they said I couldn’t graduate without it, so I get to come back for a third round.”

Luke can’t believe how blithe he is about failing a 101 class. It takes a moment of staring blankly at Han to comprehend just how few shits he seems to give about admitting that he’s here for a third time.

“You... failed introductory physics _twice_?”

Ah, there’s the ticket, that particular tone of bafflement. For the first time it’s Han that bristles under Luke’s words, pulling away to sit up a little straighter.

“Look, kid, don’t get all self-righteous on me. I could’ve passed it the first time, I just didn’t care.” It’s nearly… _endearing_ , Luke can’t help but think, the way he huffs out justifications. Like a child, almost. A child multiple years older than him. “Class is boring. Subject’s boring. Ain’t any point in caring about something that’s doin’ you no good.”

And then he sits back with a shrug, glaring off in the general direction of the professor like he’s remotely paying attention. Luke is left feeling a small tinge of guilt, despite knowing fully that it’s Han who’s being unreasonable. But the silence between them settles in uncomfortably, the warmth in Luke’s stomach growing cold, and it seems for a while that he might be left alone for the rest of the lecture.

Until he opens up his notebook and begins to write down the formulas on the board, that is. It’s a matter of seconds before he feels a weight on the back of his chair again, and turns around with a sigh to come uncomfortably close to Han’s face. What _now_?

“Hey, kid--” he starts, but Luke feels bold enough to interrupt now.

“Why do you keep calling me ‘kid’?”

Han blinks in surprise, a brief expression that’s chased away by another smirk when he answers easily, “You’re a kid to me. Fifth year here. And you’re a freshman, aren’t ya? It’s written plain as day all over you.”

“It’s--” How does he know the exact way to phrase things, the exact tone to say them in, to get under Luke’s skin so easily? What the hell did that even mean? “...How?”

“You’re all wide-eyed and full of wonder,” Han explains. “Ready to change the world but you got no idea how it works. You haven’t seen much of it, have you?”

“So what if I haven’t?” Luke snaps back without thinking, his face growing hot under the criticism. It hits him in his core, in the part of him terribly self-conscious about his rural upbringing. Is it that obvious? Is it that _wrong_ , for him to be here in the city trying to find a better place for himself in the world? “That’s why I’m here, Han. To start seeing the world.”

“This ain’t the real world, ain’t even _close,_ ” Han sits up a little, his smile gone. It takes Luke by surprise, the frustration in his voice. “You oughta get out of here while you can, get some _real_ living done--”

“And end up like you?” It’s crueler than Luke intends, slipping out amidst irritation and defensiveness, but it shuts Han up nearly immediately. A sore spot, apparently.

Han runs his tongue along his lips as if he wants to say more, but with a sharp sigh he leans back again, pulling out his phone. So that’s that. Luke turns back to the lecture, but his mind is too far elsewhere to pay attention, and he watches Leia scribble notes beside him instead. It’s not like Luke to be weighed down by the thoughts of others; he’s always forged through challenges with stubborn determination. There was something about the way Han spoke, though, that stuck with him. He can’t shake the feeling that Han was being genuine, was sincerely concerned that Luke was wasting his potential here. Luke doesn’t know whether to feel flattered or offended.

He feels, regardless, more sadness than he should when Han slips out silently a few minutes before the end of class.


	2. Wednesday

**Wednesday.**

 

Halfway through the week and Luke is feeling it, the doors to the lecture hall all the heavier under the weight of the boredom that awaits him. Or at least, that he assumes will await him, until his eyes sweep the other students filtering into their seats and he finds Leia-- and beside her, Han. His heart betrays him with a sudden jump at the sight of the other man, sprawled like a lounging cat out across the two seats beside Leia. By the look on Leia’s face, he’s been there a _while_.

Her brown eyes snap to him as soon as he moves closer, and she gestures towards her brother and then to Han beside her.

“Look, he’s right here. Talk to him yourself.”

Luke blinks in surprise as Han turns around to face him, a grin breaking out across his face as if their argument yesterday hadn’t even happened. What a strange thing it does to Luke’s stomach to watch the happiness bloom across Han’s face, like he’s… well, like he’s happy to see Luke. Luke pulls his eyes from Han with some difficulty, glancing back to Leia behind him, who is leaning heavy on her palm like she’s just finished a conversational marathon with the man.

“Is there a problem?” Luke asks warily, but as Leia is opening her mouth to respond, it’s Han that quips back easily.

“Just makin’ conversation, kid,” the man assures, waving away the concern. Leia’s eyebrow tweaks in annoyance and she looks up at Luke pointedly.

“ _Forcing_ conversation,” she corrects, in a tone that implores Luke to really appreciate just how shameless the bullshit in front of him is.

Han’s face crinkles in mock offense, turning back to Leia. “Don’t be like that, sweetheart, it’s been perfectly civil--”

The word _sweetheart_ sends an unexpected jolt of annoyance through Luke, an emotion far too close to… Defensiveness? Jealousy? Something petty that he would later regret, surely, but in the moment it makes him bristle and step forward, cutting Han’s drawl short.

“Can I have my seat back, Han? Before the lecture starts?”

Han’s hazel gaze snaps back up to Luke, the smile on his face faltering. Ouch. For a moment the other man is silent-- and then he throws up his hands like he’s surrendering under interrogation, and his tone is bitter in a way that surprises Luke. “Sure, whatever, kid. Sorry to get in the way of you and your _girlfriend_ here.”

Is _that_ what this is all about? Han’s already standing to vault across the seat into the row behind him while Luke rushes to respond, his eyes rolling in exasperation.

“She’s not--”

“He’s my _brother,_ you idiot,” Leia snaps over Luke, causing both Han and Luke to turn to her in surprise. For all the exasperation Luke is feeling, Leia’s face says that hers has reached a peak. “That’s what I’ve been trying to _tell_ you.”

Luke looks between Leia and Han and back to Leia again, and the distinct impression fills him that he’s missed an awful lot of conversation between the two. Han, for his part, looks genuinely surprised at the revelation, the sharpness gone from his expression and replaced with… well, not quite embarrassment, but Luke assumes the closest thing Han Solo experiences to embarrassment.

“Oh,” is all Han says in response, though when his gaze returns to Luke a small smile chases across his face. He looks-- though Luke could easily be imagining it-- relieved. “ _Oh_.”

And that’s all he can manage before the professor walks in, and the conversations all around them die down to their usual murmur. Han’s gaze lingers on Luke a moment longer before he shrugs, stepping back to sit a few seats away. It’s their last interaction for the period, somehow even more baffling than their first, and Luke’s mind is far, _far_ away from the theorems of the current chapter being scrawled messily across the board.

Han has slipped out before the lecture’s end again, leaving Luke to walk with Leia once the class is truly dismissed.

“I’m surprised you didn’t throw him down the aisle,” he says, laughing to hide the burning curiosity of what transpired before he arrived.

Leia laughs softly too, her smile always coming easier for Luke than for anyone else. She shakes her head. “I’m not that violent.”

“Leia, I’ve seen you drop men twice your height for flirting with you too much.”

“Oh, he wasn’t flirting.” Her smile turns peculiar, an emotion behind it that Luke can’t quite place despite their usual closeness. “I’d have nipped that in the bud _very_ quick.”

“So he really was just talking to you?” Luke cocks his head. He can’t keep the doubt out of his voice and Leia turns to meet his gaze, hesitating before she answers.

“Kind of. He kept asking about you.”

 _That_ makes Luke stop. Leia stops beside him and he turns to face her fully in surprise, the other students filtering out into the wide hallway around them. About _him_?

“About _me_?”

“Yeah, he seemed really…” Her eyes drop in uncharacteristic avoidance, and Luke doesn’t know how to read the way her smile widens a little. “... _Interested_ in you.”

Oh, the way she says it is so playful, so teasing, but it sets Luke’s whole body alight with its possibilities. Interested? Like, _interested_ interested? His mind returns to the way Han looked at him, so intently, so earnestly, and he feels his heart quicken as if he were staring at him that very moment. Is he reading too much into Leia’s words, his own fluttery, blooming feelings about the man coloring his perception? Or has _Luke_ left his glances lingering longer than he means to, hanging like a ripe fruit for a sibling looking for something to tease him with?

“Interested?” he asks, and he tries to keep his voice decidedly _un_ interested, but Leia just meets the question with shake of her head and a little laugh.

“I’d just… look out for him, if I were you,” is all she offers by way of answering. Her words would be far more ominous if it weren’t for the glint in her brown eyes, soft when they meet Luke’s again.

“Do you think he’s dangerous?” Luke asks regardless. Leia shakes her head again, stepping away slightly as she answers.

“No. Just trouble.” Her gaze is cast off to the glass doors of the building, where the trees outside bend their branches lightly in the fall breeze. Luke aches for what he knows is coming, even though he should be used to it by now; it happens every week, three times a week, that he has to say goodbye to her. “I better go, Luke. Mom’s campaigning downtown today and I told her I’d help until my afternoon classes. Take care of yourself. And-- say hi to Dad for me.”

Luke nods, knowing which of his dads she means without asking. _Her_ dad. _Their_ dad. The one they shared, even if it had been years since she’d seen him last.

“You too. And-- tell Mom the same.”

And with a sad nod she’s off through the doors, cutting through the grass to the parking lot just as she does every Wednesday. It’s stupid to be morose, Luke knows, when they’ll see each other again on Friday in this very same building. But their fleeting connections feel so brief and light after years of separation, and her every parting left Luke feeling lonelier than ever here on a campus filled to the brim with people he’s never met.

He’s only a freshman, he tells himself, and friendships take time. But his walk to the bus stop that day is as lonesome as any other. As he looks up from his brooding to see if a free seat is waiting for him under the sign, however, his thoughts are wiped suddenly and jarringly blank by the sight waiting for him.

There’s Han, headphones on, leg kicked up and bouncing to an unheard beat as he leans back against the bench. Luke’s heart skips a beat as Leia’s warning comes back to him vividly, and he considers for a moment turning right back around before Han can look up and notice him. But it’s the last bus back to Tatooine for at least two hours, and there’s no more classes that day, and _god damn it Han just looked up_ \--

Oblivious to Luke’s inner turmoil, Han waves Luke over with an easy grin, and it’s too late for Luke to refuse. As he comes close, Han pulls off the beaten-up headphones and straightens so the other man can take the seat beside him.

“Luke! Hey. Didn’t know you were a commuter.” He throws his arm up around the back of the bench, behind Luke’s shoulders, and the gesture shouldn’t make Luke feel as hot in his cheeks as it does. He’s just so… _close_.

“Yeah,” Luke answers lamely, trying to keep his eyes from staying too long on the man beside him. They’ve drifted rather aimlessly off to the pavement when he finally continues, unable to avoid the curiosity that’s bubbling up inside him. “I’ve, uh... never seen you at the stop before.”

“Car broke down again. Real piece of junk. So I’m back on public transportation for a while.” Han shrugs like it’s a common occurrence, and by the way he speaks, perhaps it is. He glances over at Luke again, who can feel the hazel gaze boring into him even as he stares down the sidewalk intently. “Why aren’t you riding home with Leia? She’s your sister, ain’t she?”

“She lives in the city.”

“And you don’t?”

“I live out in Tatooine.”

“No joke?” The surprise in Han’s voice makes Luke look over, and sure enough, his expression is incredulous. “That little dusty farm town out in the plains? Shit, I didn’t think people still lived there anymore. The bus goes that far out?”

“Almost,” Luke answers, and it’s impossible to keep the smile from growing on his face at Han’s interest. Maybe it’s just polite conversation, but… well, it is kind of nice to talk so easily with someone that isn’t Leia. Even if it’s someone as baffling as Han. “It’s a couple miles to walk from the stop, still. Not too far.”

“Damn.” Han whistles like it’s impressive, though it’s an everyday trek for Luke. For a moment Han is quiet, watching the students cross the street and hustle to various buildings, and Luke snatches the opportunity to gaze at him meekly, like it’s a sinful and indulgent treat. He’s looked at Han from afar, of course, more than he would ever admit. On the days that Han bothers to show up to class, he’s an easy form to pick out amongst the lecture attendees, and one that Luke’s eyes have fallen on his boredom far, far too frequently. And up close like this, where Luke can see the gentle waves that curl Han’s hair around his collar, and the faint lines where that smarmy grin gets pulled wide so often, it’s easy for Luke to get lost in the… in the details.

So he jumps, of course, when Han turns back to look at him again suddenly.

“Divorced, huh?”

“Uh-- Yeah.” In his startlement, it takes Luke a moment to reason out what Han is asking. But once it settles in, his hands tighten a little, his eyes falling to his lap. “We were pretty young. Our mom took her to live in the city, and I went with my dad to live with… uh, live with his new boyfriend-- husband, now-- out in Tatooine.”

His eyes shoot up to gauge Han’s reaction; telling anyone about his father and Ben was always risking an awkward conversation he was never in the mood to have, but it feels important that he be honest with Han. There’s no scorn that awaits him on Han’s face, however, no disgust or confusion, just the same small and curious smile that he’d started the conversation with.

Feeling a little more at ease, Luke continues on, “I hadn’t seen her much, not in years, not until… well, the first day of physics, actually. Neither of us knew that we were both attending this university. Guess that’s a really ‘twin’ thing to do, isn’t it?”

“Twins, huh?” It almost makes Luke laugh, that of all he’d just said, that’s what Han chooses to raise an eyebrow on. “Wouldn’t’ve guessed by lookin’ at ya. Guess that explains why you’re always hangin’ out like you ain’t gonna see each other again. Got that magic twin connection.”

Luke _does_ laugh at that, shaking his head, and the words slip out before he can think.

“Are you _jealous_ , Han?”

Han takes a moment to answer, and Luke wishes he could look away in his immediate embarrassment at the question, but the other man’s gaze holds him captive with its intensity. Han is studying him, eyes darting between Luke’s and then down across his face and back up to his eyes again. The grin he’s sporting turns lopsided-- _mischievous_ , even-- as his arm slips down from the bench to rest across Luke’s shoulders, the warmth of him sending tingles across the boy’s skin.

“A _little_ ,” he admits, leaning in closer (or pulling Luke in closer, Luke can’t quite tell) to say it. Luke is stunned silent by the sudden weight and heat upon him, his heart hammering like it wants to leap from his chest. Han lets out a small huff of laughter at the reaction, his arm slipping off just as fleetingly as it had come to rest.

Luke swallows, looking down at his lap, and the silence lingers awkwardly between them. Han’s tensed a little, and a part of Luke wonders if his heart is beating just as fast, if he feels he’s pushed too far. Han is so hard to read that Luke can’t tell if it was just an off-color joke or not, but Luke feels he ought to say _something_.

“Where are you headed?” he tries, chancing a look back up at Han. He swears there’s relief there in those hazel eyes when Han loosens his posture slightly to answer.

“Airfield. Gotta run a test flight.”

Luke blinks in surprise. The airfield? He knows the university has one, out in the transportation complex, but he’s never been there. It’s far out in the opposite direction of Tatooine, just as remote. He’ll have classes there, someday in the future; the engineering courses for aerospace technology are all out there. It’s hard to keep the wonder out of his voice when he thinks that Han has been there, perhaps in the very labs Luke is so desperately working towards gaining access to.

“You… fly an airplane?”

“Yeah.” Han preens under the clear tone of admiration in Luke’s words, grin widening as he gets a chance to flaunt himself. It should exasperate Luke, but it’s amusing in its own way. “I didn’t tell ya that? I’m in the aviation department. Been flying for years, but it’s been a real pain in the ass gettin’ the piece of paper to say I’m safe to hire for it. There’s so many hoops to jump through, kid, you can’t even imagine.”

He’s gesturing lazily as he speaks in a cocky drawl like he’s a seasoned expert in the field, and maybe he is, but it still strikes a playful urge in Luke to tease him for it. If Han can give _him_ shit, why can’t Luke do the same? “Han, how can you learn to fly an airplane, but not how pass physics 101?”

Han seems a little surprised at the snipe, his smile faltering, and for a moment Luke worries he’s come across as too cruel-- but then Han’s grin turns full-on shit eating, and he reaches up to mess Luke’s hair, drawing a noise of indignation from the boy.

“Because I give a shit about flyin’ airplanes,” he replies, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“But physics is integral to flying,” Luke argues, smoothing over the blonde bangs that were so rudely displaced. “You clearly know how to apply physics, why not just… learn the minor details for the rest of it? The technical terms and the formulas? It wouldn’t be that hard.”

“I know all the physics I need already, though, that’s just the thing,” Han counters, his arms folding as he settles back against the bench. “You think anything in that class would _really_ help me? Would _really_ change how I fly?”

It’s hard for Luke not to launch into a lecture like his fathers would give him. About the value of knowledge, _any_ knowledge, or about how silly it is to avoid work just because it’s boring or not immediately beneficial. But there’s a sliver of reason in Han’s argument, too, one that Luke wishes he could commit to with the same lackadaisical attitude as Han did.

“I think you’re wasting a great opportunity, is all,” Luke settles on finally, shrugging. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of experiencing the things we learn about in class in such a practical use.”

There’s a small hint of bitterness in his voice that he doesn’t intend to slip out, but it’s not at all directed at Han. It’s the same bitterness he fights with every day in Physics 101, in knowing how fundamental the class is despite his burning desire to do more than the silly lab experiments, to reach impatiently into the scope of his true passions that lay seemingly unreachable on the other end of several semesters still. And yet here’s Han, flying an airplane, just because he _wants_ to. Just because it’s _his_ passion.

He can’t brood too long in those sorts of thoughts, however, because Han’s next question catches him completely off guard.

“Do you want to?”

“Huh?” Luke looks up at him blankly. Want to...? Want to what?

“Do you want to fly?” Han asks, and the intensity in his eyes nearly takes Luke’s breath away. He’s sat up a little straighter, bouncing his leg with a new energy. “Have you ever been in a plane before?”

“I, uh… no, I’ve never been on a plane,” Luke admits, like it’s a shameful thing. “I’ve lived in Tatooine my whole life.”

His answer only seems to excite Han further. “Don’t you wanna work on rockets or whatever? Planes ain’t too far off. You oughta fly with me, kid, you’d love it. Or you’d hate it. Better to find out now than when you’re balls deep in a degree all about workin’ way high up, wouldn’t you say?”

The weight of what Han is offering is finally settling down on Luke. He wants Luke to… fly with him? In an airplane? An instinctive nervousness lurches in Luke’s stomach, and he can’t tell if it’s because it would be his first time on an airplane, or because it’s _Han_ inviting him.

“Fly with _you_?”

Han scoffs at the doubt in Luke’s voice, even if he can’t know the full reason for it. “Don’t say it like _that_ , Luke. I’d be out of the program or dead myself if I wasn’t a good pilot. C’mon, listen-- the first bus for the airfield leaves at 8:10 am tomorrow--”

Ah, but there’s a true complication. Luke interrupts him gently, “That’s during our physics lecture, Han.”

“Yeah, what of it?” Han shrugs, because of course missing class isn’t a big deal for him. He’s hardly there to begin with. “Don’t act like you’ll be missing anything. Just get notes from Leia, she writes down just about every breath the old codger takes. I’ve watched her.”

“She’d kill me for skipping class to go… fly in an airplane.” Luke can’t help but hesitate when he thinks of earning Leia’s disappointment, even when his heart  is racing in giddy nervousness at the thought of spending a day at the airfield with Han. “And she’d kill _you_ for badgering me into it.”

“ _Badgering_?” Han huffs, rolling his eyes. “This is a privilege, kid, not… you know what, fine, whatever. I just thought-- Just thought maybe we could, ah… hang out. You n’ me. Do somethin’ different, somethin’ that wasn’t sitting in a lecture whispering.”

He runs his tongue across his lips as he pulls his gaze away to glare off across the street, and Luke feels like under the defensive tone, Han is nervous. Nervous about asking Luke? It feels like almost too much to hope for, that Han is as lost and fumbling in this interaction as Luke is, but it softens Luke’s voice when he replies regardless.

“Han, it’s not that I don’t _want_ to, it’s just…”

The squealing of the bus’s brakes as it approaches the stop draws both of their eyes up to watch, and Luke feels a pang of sadness that cuts through the tangle of emotions already on his mind. And he supposes that’s what truly plants the seed of tomorrow’s adventure, then and there, that it pains him so much to leave Han Solo’s company. “I don’t know. I need to think about it.”

And with that he rises, looking down to Han where he sits and pretends like it’s not bothering him, and Luke can’t help but smile. And _Han_ can’t seem to help cracking a smile at Luke, shaking his head as the bus deposits a half dozen students around them, and the destination on its electric board changes to TATOOINE.

“Alright. Well, keep thinkin’.” Han gives Luke a little salute as he pulls on his headphones again, settling down to wait for his own ride. “I’ll be here at 8:10 tomorrow regardless, so just… come if you want. Don’t come if you don’t. I ain’t gonna be in class either way.”

Luke nods as he boards the bus back home, and even though he tells himself that he’ll weigh his options equally, he knows-- he _knows_ \-- that Han’s offer is heavier in his heart than anything else.


	3. Friday

**Friday.**

 

It’s the last day of the week and Luke should be sitting next to Leia, doing review problems for the test coming up, making little stars by the formulas he needs to practice still.

But he’s not, is he? He’s standing under the bus stop sign, too nervous to sit, too nervous to pace, hands wrapped so tight around his backpack that the little circles from the mesh are making patterns on his palm.

His phone vibrates in his pocket again, the third time since the campus clock tower rang out with eight chimes. No one ever texts Luke, not either of his fathers, not any of the old acquaintances from high school he hardly speaks to anymore. There’s no one else it can be but Leia, and he can’t bring himself to look at the flurry of messages awaiting him. This is the most stupid and reckless thing Luke’s done since the semester started, and as the minutes tick by closer and closer to 8:10 Luke is feeling mounting regret in his stomach.

Han said he was coming. Why hadn’t Luke thought to get his number? Instead he’s stuck scanning the sidewalk and the street and the campus buildings beyond, desperately trying to pick out that swaggering walk amongst an already thin crowd. Not many people are out at this hour, either in class or in bed.  Luke takes a deep breath, trying to stave off the remorse of ditching class and the sorrow of the thought that perhaps he, himself, had been ditched.

But then the sound of shoes beating the pavement catches Luke’s ear, and he turns just in time to see a familiar face rounding the corner of the block. Han is flushed, out of breath and disheveled, and Luke can’t believe how attractive someone can look when they’re running-- and he’s  _ running _ \-- late. It would make him laugh if the sight didn’t also twist his stomach in knots and coils that he’s not sure are entirely unpleasant.

It takes Han a moment to really register that Luke is standing there at the bus stop, hazel eyes bright and baffled in the early morning light as he slows his jog to a steady walk. And then all at once the surprise melts into a raw sort of happiness that melts Luke’s heart along with it. He’s looking at Luke like he’s seen the light of day for the first time, and it seems like he can’t stop himself from the embrace he sweeps the boy up into, arms firm around Luke’s smaller frame. Luke makes a muffled noise of surprise, face suddenly pushed close against the warmth of Han’s chest. Then he’s released just as quickly, and Han laughs.

“Hey, kid! Decided on a little adventure in your life after all, huh?”

Luke grins and hopes it hides the flush on his face. “As long as it’s not  _ too _ much of an adventure.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Han waves away the concern just as the bus pulls around the bend. Just in the nick of time. Before the bus squeals to a stop before them, Han turns again to Luke, and for a moment his voice is just a bit softer in spite of the smirk he’s wearing. “Hey-- I’m glad you came, Luke. I was afraid I’d have to go a whole weekend without seein’ your face.”

It’s a joke, but in his eyes, it’s not.

“Well, what would I do in class without you talking over the lecture the whole time? I’d be lost,” Luke shoots back, stepping onto the bus as Han follows behind. The phone in his pocket buzzes again, but it doesn’t cause the jolt of guilt in Luke’s stomach that it probably should. Sorry Leia.

“See, you  _ do _ care, junior,” Han says, taking the seat beside Luke in the near-empty bus. His arm is up around Luke’s shoulders again, and it makes Luke look down bashfully. But he doesn’t pull away. “I’m growin’ on you.”

“Like a parasite.”

“A handsome one.”

Luke rolls his eyes, but he can’t argue with that. Timidly, he leans back into Han’s arm, and the motion is reciprocated by the feeling of Han’s thumb tracing gentle circles against his shoulder. It makes Luke swallow, like he’s pushing down his leaping heart. He expects a snarky quip from Han, but to his surprise, the other man keeps his mouth shut. So Luke savors the small moment instead, the bus jolting slightly underneath them as it pulls out from the stop and heads for the freeway.

It should be strange, watching the cityscape thin down to suburbs and then to grassland as Luke sits in a quiet sort of peace with Han, but it feels natural in a way Luke can’t describe. He’s never been this close to someone, never had an arm around him the way Han’s rests on his shoulders, and it’s almost surreal to think that they’d never spoken until that week. Why  _ had _ Han decided to invade the little corner of the hall that he and Leia usually kept to themselves? Luke wants to ask, burning up with curiosity about Han’s thoughts on him, but there’s an irrational fear that doing so might break the spell, might cause Han and Luke both to suddenly realize how weird it all is. So he stays quiet as they approach the fenced-in perimeter of a massive complex, blue eyes wide with wonder trying to pick out the details on the buildings as the bus draws closer.

They are dropped off at the main building, and before Luke can even voice an opinion, Han’s hand has slipped around his, and he’s being pulled gently through the wide hallway lined with large glass windows. Luke’s fingers tense at the sudden contact, but he slowly relaxes into Han’s grip. He can’t see Han’s face, the way he’s tugging Luke along and past lab after lab where cars and planes and pieces of equipment are in various states of repair and disrepair, but Luke gets the distinct impression that there’s a stupid,  _ stupid  _ grin across the older man’s face. 

On the airfield proper, the breeze is warm across the flat plains and concrete, and it reminds Luke of the dusty little town he calls home. There’s a nervous excitement buzzing around in his gut as they approach one of the handful of small aircraft lined up along the runway, and Han finally releases Luke’s hand to hustle closer to the plane, running along its paneling and making a show of checking that everything’s in order. Luke can’t keep the laugh from slipping out at the way Han’s brow is scrunched up in exaggerated concentration, stepping up to run his own hand across the metal of the plane’s side, warmed by the sun above. The words  _ Millenium Falcon _ are visible under years of scratches and weather-wearing.

“Is this your plane?”

“Yup. Won it in a bet,” Han explains over the blades he’s leaned up to turn this way and that, testing for things Luke can only guess at. “Rich-ass friend Lando put her down on the table one night. Poker. Both drunk as hell. I won fair and square though and held him to it.”

Luke can’t tell if Han’s bullshitting him or not with that kind of story, but it hardly seems out of character, so he rolls with it. “I didn’t think they’d let students just… bring their own airplane to school.”

“Most students ain’t  _ got  _ their own airplane,” Han responds, and there’s a thread of pride in his voice. He jumps down from his work, finally, apparently satisfied. “We gotta run it through all the same tests, anyway. They’re not gonna turn us loose with anything commerical until they know we can fly a little puddle-jumper like this without losin’ it. Probably happy they don’t gotta pay to replace mine if I fly it into the ground, really.”

Han steps up again to unlatch the hatch of the cockpit, and the sound of releasing pressure hissing from its joints makes the butterflies frenzy in Luke’s stomach. He always pictured huge planes, the kind that took people across countries and continents, not anything small and dainty-- if you could call an airplane dainty-- like the one before him. His eyes meet Han’s and there’s a renewed trepidation in him. Is this  _ really _ a good idea?

“They don’t mind you taking another student along for the ride?” Luke asks, and some part of him knows exactly the sort of answer Han’s going to give even before he puts on that easy smile and shrugs.

“Can’t mind what you don’t know.”

“ _ Han-- _ ” 

But Han’s hand is on his again, and he’s urging Luke towards the open plane, and there’s no way to weasel out of it now. “C’mon, you worry too much. Here, hop in this way…”

Clamoring up into the plane takes a bit of balance and some guidance from Han, little touches at his back and hips that seem to linger a little longer than necessary, but Luke is finally settled down into the worn and torn leather of the seat within. His eyes sweep over the controls all around the inside as Han settles in beside him, and a new excitement trickles in through the nerves. This could be a spaceship cockpit, he imagines, and they could be preparing for liftoff any moment. All the models he build in his youth, all the books he’d poured over and the daydreams he’d lost himself to in high school, taking himself to a future where he was Luke Skywalker, astronaut and engineer… those feelings all come flooding back to him now as Han’s fingers dance over button and switch and gauge, bringing the craft roaring to life.

“Nervous?” Han asks, nearly a shout as the plane warms up into a rumble beneath and around them. Luke swallows and takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself for an experience he doesn’t even know how to imagine, how to prepare for. His arms wrap around the backpack in his lap like a safety blanket, like it might ground him somehow.

“A little,” he admits, and he knows that Han’s looking over at him even as his own eyes are glued ahead, his stomach lurching with the jerk of the plane’s wheels beginning to roll over the concrete. Han laughs, but it’s not malicious. Luke feels the warmth of a hand on his shoulder, a brief squeeze of comfort before Han returns to the controls.

“Relax, kid.”

The rumbling of the wheels beneath them is a staccato that builds tension in Luke’s gut as they roll out of line and onto the runway proper, lines and dashes guiding a path down a long band of concrete that makes Luke think of the seemingly endless freeway back to Tatooine. Han’s on the radio briefly, probably asking for clearance to take off, but Luke’s mind is far down that barren path, eyes moving up along the treeless skyline and up into the bright blue expanse above. A launch, he tells himself.

Ten seconds to liftoff.

The seconds are much longer in his mind than in reality, of course, as he counts them off. The roaring around him gets louder and louder as the plane picks up pace, the dashes that line their route blurring together into dual streams of faded color.

Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.

A new jolt rocks the cabin and Luke grips tighter on his backpack.

Five. Four. Three.

Han says something but Luke can’t hear it.

Two. 

Luke feels the g-force pushing him down into his seat before he feels the wheels lift from the ground, and in the back of his mind he runs through the notes from class, the letters on a chalkboard that now weighed heavy and foreign down upon him in reality. Lift and weight playing tug of war with his own body, acceleration mounting as the craft he’s in overcomes the grounding pull of gravity…

One.

All at once they’re in the air, the whole plane turning sideways to sweep a wide loop around the shrinking tarmac below. Luke’s stomach drops out beneath him at the sensation, instinctual and terrifying, that he might slip out at any moment, that the thin layer of metal and insulation all around him is the only barrier between him and certain death. For a moment all he can do is watch, wide-eyed and white-knuckled, as Han’s minute movements on the steering take them higher and higher above the complex.

But eventually the plane straightens, and they’re off along the expanse of prairie that surrounds the city, scattered farms and villages not unlike that of Luke’s Tatooine blooming out of the fields beneath them. It’s breathtaking, and slowly the tension in Luke’s posture relaxes, and he feels brave enough to peek over through the window beside him. He’s seen planes fly above him plenty of times, of course, and seen their views in movies, but it’s a whole different thing to be in one himself. The racing of his heart doesn’t slow, but the fear it pumps out is replaced by adrenaline, and Luke feels almost drunk with it, his mouth pulling into a dazed grin as he looks up to the sky above them, darker and deeper the higher they climb. He feels close enough to space to  _ touch _ it, here, even knowing how far away it is still in the logical part of his brain. 

Han is focused intently beside him when he finally looks over at the other man, brow furrowed and face a rare shade of serious. In the intoxication of the moment, it feels so laughably pointless to Luke that he should balk at the thoughts in his head at the sight. To hell with it-- Han is downright  _ sexy _ in his concentration, in the air of absolute dedication that radiates from him in a way Luke would have never expected from the lounging, languid man in his lecture class. And Luke basks in it, gazing out into the blue beyond, wondering where this feeling-- where this  _ guy _ \-- had been his whole life.

It feels like an eternity they’re up there, drifting through gentle turns and small ripples of turbulence over the plains, until at last they’ve begun to circle back down around the pale expanse of runway beside the transportation school. Then all at once it feels far too short, and there’s a part of Luke that wants to beg Han to pull back up, to take him somewhere new and far, but he knows that it’s not meant to last. Reality settles in over him again as Han brings them low to drift inches off the tarmac, before the bump and rattle of the wheels making contact scrambles his thoughts. It’s not until they’ve finally slowed down to a lazy pace, like an unwieldy car rolling down a massive street, that Luke slumps back into his seat in a daze, like he’s just run a marathon. A marathon in the sky.

At some point he closes his eyes, trying to bring back the feeling of soaring through the air into his imagination, and it’s not until the plane settles to a stop and Han gently shakes him that they flutter open again, and he scrambles to step unsteadily down and back onto solid ground. His mind is buzzing with adrenaline, ears ringing still from the noise of the engine and the wind, and for a moment all he can do is stand blinking in a daze, backpack still clutched tight against his chest. And then--

He wheels to face Han, the wound-up excitement of the whole experience finally bursting through, and there’s something so delightful in watching the way Han’s concerned expression slips into surprise as Luke’s sudden energy takes him off guard that Luke can’t help but burst into laughter. The bag slides from from his hands to land with a soft thud on the concrete, and for the first time it’s Luke who wraps his arms around Han. And so close to him, ear pressed tight against his chest in the excited embrace, Luke can hear that Han’s heart is racing just as fast as Luke’s.

“Han, that was--” Luke pulls back a little, but Han’s hands are on his waist, and he doesn’t fight against them. Another laugh and Luke shakes his head, scrambling for the word he wants as he looks up to meet Han’s hazel gaze a scant few inches above. He’s smiling, a  _ real _ smile, not his usual smirk, and it makes Luke’s own stupid grin widen to see. “It’s just-- That was  _ incredible _ , Han, I’ve never-- And you, and we were--”

But before he can even try to get a coherent thought out, Han’s hand is on his cheek, calloused fingers so gentle against his skin that it sends tingles down his neck. And then just as suddenly Han’s forehead bumps his, and his breath is hot on Luke’s mouth for the scant fraction of a second he lingers there before their lips are pressed sweetly together in a soft kiss.

Oh.  _ Oh _ . 

Any hope of coherency is swept away in the warmth that blooms out across Luke’s face and lights across his skin. It’s… well, it’s the first time he’s ever been kissed.  _ Really _ kissed. Not playground dares or friendly pecks on the cheek but someone truly, sincerely kissing him with a desperation that’s barely held under control, the tension clear in Han’s fingers as they press just a little too hard against the curve of Luke’s jaw. There’s no doubt in Luke’s mind, in that moment, that it’s taking all of Han Solo’s control not to deepen their kiss beyond the gentle movements between them now.

And to Luke, to a boy who’s spent the majority of his life feeling isolated, out of place, and wanting desperately for the validation and love he craves-- that realization pales even the flight he’s just taken in comparison.

Han pulls aways just as quickly as he’d swooped in, and by the look on his face, he’s just as taken aback as Luke is.

“…Sorry,” he mutters, shaking his head as he pulls away hastily from Luke. There’s a blush that’s rising to  _ his _ cheeks, this time, and the terrified regret that’s growing over his face makes Luke’s heart ache to see. “Sorry, you just-- kid, you looked so _ happy _ , I couldn’t help-- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve--”

He’s wheeled around to flee, but Luke bounds forward to close the distance between them, clamoring to grab Han’s wrist. The other man turns back to face him sharply, trying will all his might to keep his expression as calm and guarded as usual, but Luke can see the clear cracks of fear in that facade. There’s so many silent words between them in that moment, shifting around in Han’s hazel eyes as he searches Luke’s gaze--  _ too much? Too soon? Wrong message? _ \-- and Luke’s voice is soft when he finally speaks up, trying to answer them all at once.

“ _ Han _ . I  _ am  _ happy,” Luke steps forward timidly, and Han doesn’t shirk away, even as Luke comes to stand directly under him, craning up to hold Han’s gaze. And then he’s up on his tiptoes, hands bracing against Han’s chest, and with a tiny bit of a lean down from Han their lips are together again. It’s just a fleeting little brush, clumsy and hasty, but Luke can feel Han smiling against him even before he pulls away. “Thank you. Really.”

Han doesn’t answer at first, not with words. His arm is thrown back around Luke’s shoulder as they walk together back towards the complex, and this time Luke doesn’t hesitate in slipping an arm around Han’s waist as well.

“We can do it again next week,” Han says finally, blithely ignoring the stares of his classmates as he saunters through the building’s doors with Luke in tow. Luke can feel the curious gazes, too, but it’s hard to feel self-conscious with Han by his side. “Monday. Same time, same place.”

“I’m not missing class again, Han, and neither should you,” Luke scolds, and Han rolls his eyes and mumbles something about  _ damn freshmen, always on about attendance _ , but he doesn’t argue. A sly smile creeps across Luke’s face as he continues, “The test is next Wednesday, you know. You should at least come to class for the review session.”

“What, are you holding yourself ransom now?” Han accuses, a hand to his heart in feigned hurt. “I can’t see ya if I don’t behave, is that it?”

“Yes,” Luke says, with far too much pleasure, “That’s exactly it.”

Han scoffs indignantly, but Luke’s caught him in a trap almost too easily. With an exasperated sigh, he finally gives in. “Alright, I’ll be there Monday. Just ‘cause I won’t see your face ‘til Wednesday if I don’t.”

“I have Monday afternoon off,” Luke offers. “After the review, maybe…”

“Can’t fly ya that day, kid, supposed to rain.”

“I was going to suggest coffee.”

Han raises an eyebrow, but the idea makes him smile. “Sounds like a date you’re askin’ me on.”

“A second one, yes.” Luke nods, his voice more confident than the butterflies in his stomach make him feel. What a word.  _ Date _ . And that’s exactly what this is, isn’t it? Even if neither had said so. A date. Luke’s first date.

Han chuckles softly at his answer. “We’ll see, junior.”

But there’s something in the way he pulls Luke closer, something in the light and pleasant tone of his voice as they cross back out into the daylight to wait at the bus stop together, that strikes Luke distinctly as Han’s version of  _ yes _ . 


End file.
